


First Noel

by Nyssa



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-28
Updated: 2010-10-28
Packaged: 2017-10-12 22:52:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/129993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyssa/pseuds/Nyssa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The guys spend their first slashy Christmas together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Noel

Damn, he feels good. I mean, it ain't just the sex. No, really. My partner feels good any time, especially early in the morning, when we wake up and it's too early to get up yet, so we just lay there yawning, all scrunched up together, and he's all warm and sleepy and the skin over his ribs is so soft, like a girl's. I don't tell him that, though. I just touch him there, run my hands over him. He's ticklish, so I gotta be careful, but if I do it just right I can make him purr.

He's still asleep right now, with his back to me, so I snuggle up against him, one arm over him, and put my face against the back of his neck. I can feel him move just a little when my lips touch him, feel the hitch in his breathing as he comes awake, so I say "Merry Christmas," and then I sigh. He just feels so _good_.

He says "Mmm," and I feel the rumble of it under his ribs. Then he tenses a little, and turns his head.

"Is it morning?" he asks, like he can't see the dawn outside the window.

"It's morning. Always happens that way, morning after night."

He turns over in my arms and gives me kind of a funny look.

"Whassamatter? I got drool on my chin?"

He blinks. "How come we're still in bed?"

"Uh, 'cause we like it here?"

"I thought..."

"You thought?"

"I thought you'd have woken me up hours ago." He laughs. "I thought you'd nag me till I got out of bed and then make me sit on the floor with you while you ripped your presents open."

"Come on, Hutch. You think I'm a kid or something? Think I can't wait for a decent hour to open presents? Think I laid awake all night listenin' for eight tiny reindeer up on the rooftop?"

"That's exactly what I thought."

"Nah. You oughta know me better than that."

"Starsk, last Christmas you drove me insane trying to find out if I bought you a sweater."

"Which you didn't. You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch."

"And the Christmas before, you dressed up as Santa Claus, put antlers on the Torino, and would have driven around on patrol all day that way if I hadn't filled out an application for a new partner and put it on Dobey's desk."

"Good thing he was on vacation. Y'know, I still think you'd make a cute elf."

"And the year before that, I came over and found you holding a blanket, watching _A Charlie Brown Christmas_ , and crying."

I can feel my face heat up. "I wasn't actually _crying_ ," I mumble. "It's just -- that Linus, y'know? Gets me every time."

"So I think you can see why I expected some pretty childish behavior from you this morning."

"Hutch, there's something you gotta understand. I mean, now that we're, uh -- "

"Lovers."

I like to hear him say that. It's so new and shiny. "Yeah. Now that we're that, you're gonna see some big changes. See, I don't have to get your attention anymore."

He raises his eyebrows and says, "Ah."

I grin at him, 'cause he's so easy to grin at. "Yeah. No more silly stunts. No more annoying plays for attention. You've seen the last of those, buddy. From now on, it's Mr. Serious-Minded Adult all the way."

He looks a little uncertain. "No more ridiculous games? No more dumb practical jokes? No more idiotic remarks?"

"Not a one."

He's quiet for a minute. His hair's straggling down over his forehead, so I brush it back up for him. Then I leave my hand there, because Jeez, even his hair feels good. They just don't come any better than my Hutch.

"Starsk," he says finally, "I don't think you should make any radical changes. I mean, I'd hate to think I was responsible for, well, cramping your style. People have to be what they are, you know what I mean?"

"Oh." I try to sound surprised. "I thought those things bothered you."

"No! I mean, not that much. Not really. Look, would I be sleeping with you if your little quirks bothered me?"

I shrug. "I guess not."

He smiles and kisses me on the forehead. It always makes me feel kinda funny when he does that, kinda weak and wobbly. Good thing we're lying down. "Of course I wouldn't," he says. "So if you want to act like a kid, go ahead."

But I don't want to act like a kid. I want to do some real adult things.

He always wakes up ready to go, and I don't mean for a run. We don't always do anything about it, 'cause we don't always have time. But we've got lotsa time today.

"So shall we go open the presents?" He pushes the covers back, making a tentative move to get up.

Before he can, I roll on top of him and weigh him down. He fits against me like he was made to, like we're two halves of a whole that was busted apart before we were born and now we're back where we belong. Every place my body presses down on him, his presses back up to meet me. He feels it, too. He stops moving instantly and just looks up at me with the shiniest eyes you ever saw.

"Didja make me a fruitcake?" I ask, because he bragged last week that he could.

He touches my hair and smiles. "I tried. Screwed it up, so I got one from Clell's Bakery. It's in the fridge."

"You can eat it. I'd rather have a traditional Jewish dish anyway."

His eyes get wide. "A traditional Jewish Christmas dish? This I've gotta hear."

"A traditional Jewish Hanukkah dish. Called a blintz."

Now he looks suspicious. "Blintz, huh?"

"Sure, you've had 'em. For breakfast, right? Kinda like pancakes, but not flat. They're rolled up." I slide down his body a little, shoving the blankets back. He's swelling up real nice. I get hold of him and give him a long, slow stroke. His eyes close, and his mouth opens.

"They're rolled up just like this. They're so good, babe. All hot and gold-colored and full of sweet, sweet cream...." I drop my head and breathe on him, right on the head, and it jerks for me, reaching toward me like a flower toward the sun. It wants me. I don't think I'll ever get tired of that.

"Starsk..." he whispers.

"Best thing in the world, a good blintz." I kiss him, on the tip. "And I got the best one there is." I suck him in and get ready to ride.

God, I love the holidays.


End file.
